The White Demon of Acre
by Wisdomwielder
Summary: A little girl named Adrianna encounters a frightening man clad in white. They say he is really a demon who kills anyone near enough to regret it. It turns out that trying to stay away from someone rarely seen is very difficult. Can she survive? NO ROMANCE
1. Chapter 1

_Hello! This is my very first fanfiction based on the game I love, Assassin's Creed that I don't own. I also regretfully don't own Altaïr, Acre, or anything else related to Assassin's Creed… ); I am putting this up to showcase and test people's take on my writing. So if I need to, I can improve! I will try to post on a regular basis, but I am a very busy person, so there will most likely be delays. Read and review, and please be nice!_

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"Get back here you dirty little thief!"

The guards had seen her.

She bolted down the street, shoving her way through the dense, smelly crowd. She was just small enough to duck under and hide between the compacted bodies of adults. The guards were still coming closer, knocking the people behind her to the ground. They were going out of their way to punish her for stealing a single, over-ripened apple from a merchant's stand. Her hunger had overcome her fear, and so she resorted to thievery.

When the guards had lost sight of her among the people, she veered out of the throng of bodies and darted into a dark, narrow alley. She slid behind a stack of crates against a wall and squeezed her body into the corner until she was nothing but a shadow. She firmly shut her eyes and believed she could be nothing but a shadow, and hoped they hadn't caught sight of her.

The sound of their threatening footfalls approached quickly. She heard their footsteps and the roars of anger grow louder until they stopped at the mouth of the damp, grimy alley. The guards whipped their heads around and strained their necks, inspecting every little nook and cranny of every street and building.

"She couldn't have gotten far, look everywhere!"

They started searching the nearby merchant stands, piles of garbage and a few unlucky passers-by's, breaking merchandise and untold amounts of pottery in the process. They were causing much more damage than what could be justified for retrieving an apple. She knew they were only interested in carrying out their judgment and delivering the highest sentence of punishment; which was, for thievery, the loss of a hand. She knew of no one who believed in righteous justice and morals anymore, and not the fulfillment of one's own pleasure.

She heard an aggravated sigh come from one of the guards. "To hell with this! We're never gonna find the urchin."

The mob of soldiers began to disperse.

Just as she began to relax, the sound of thick boots thudding on the cobblestone street and chinking metal came down the alley.

She froze into the corner once more as the sound moved next to the crates.

She dared not breathe as the unaware guard passed her hiding spot. He eventually sauntered out of the alley into the next street without as much as a backwards glance.

When all of the guards had eventually passed on, she un-tensed her body and stretched out her long, scrawny legs. She tried to calm herself by ruffling her short, greasy, matted hair. It had once been very long and a shining shade of honey brown, but that was a long time ago. She had cut it short when it had become nothing but a burden. Adrianna wiped the memory from her mind before it could fester in her head any longer. Forgetting the past had become a habit.

Her angry belly growled at her noisily. She reached into her pocket and pulled out her well-earned prize.

The soft, red scrap of fruit looked as wonderful and valuable as a ruby to her. It was certainly better than someone's leftovers that had been tossed out on the street to rot.

She hungrily bit into the mushy, delicious apple. She ignored the sticky juices running down her arms and neck and quickly devoured the rest of it until there was nothing but some seeds and a stem.

Adrianna sat back in content, her stomach satisfied for the moment. She wearily laid her head back against the wall and stared up at the darkening sky. The sky in Acre was always dirty and dark but it was turning into the black, murky night now. The gloom blocked out the colors of dawn and dusk, so afternoons turned directly into night.

Everything was filthy because the siege had deprived the city of food, clean water, and basic necessities. Disease and famine ran rampant throughout Acre, which spawned rising mounds of dead bodies that were left on the street to rot. Some of those corpses were casualties of the ongoing Crusades. In the poor district, it was the worst, because in Acre, you weren't considered to be in poverty until you had sunken below rock-bottom and didn't even own the rags on your back. There was a pitiful filth-ridden beggar around every corner clawing on the clothes of anyone who looked like they had even one coin. Those 'wealthy' people would, of course, not even acknowledge their existence and push them aside without so much as a moment's glance.

The Christians had all but erased what the city had been before, replacing mosques with churches and destroying anything that resembled the civilization they were fighting against; _her_ civilization. Acre was consumed by the Crusader Knights and English architecture.

It hadn't always been like that though.

At one time, you could see the bright yellow sun and the deep blue sky on the days when there was no coastal cloud cover. You could sometimes even walk the streets with a smile on your face, without fear of being harassed by soldiers. People took enjoyment in the simple, little things, like having a family….

Adrianna sighed in depressing contempt at the memory of her long gone family and rolled to her side to get more comfortable. It had been about two years now since the last of them had become ill and left her alone to fend for herself. All she could do was blame them for her situation. She hated her younger brother for being last, for dying and leaving her alone in the world.

She buried her face in her sleeve in an attempt to stifle a sob. She shouldn't let herself get so worked up about the past. It was the past after all, and nothing could be done about it. She could at least thank her parents for having European ancestors among their Arabic heritage; she was mixed enough that the Crusaders didn't bother her. It was dangerous enough to be an unaccompanied thirteen-year-old girl wandering the streets of Acre. It was a wonder she had survived this long, though not without being unscathed.

It was almost completely dark outside and people were returning to their houses after a long day. She allowed her eyes to droop half-way closed as she stared up at the sky between the narrow walls of the alley, waiting for sleep to embrace her. She hadn't noticed it before, but somewhere among the buildings emanated the soothing, hollow sound of wooden chimes knocking against each other. She breathed out with content at the relaxing sound; this had certainly been the most peaceful night she had experienced in a long time. She could even see the light of the moon glowing through the gloom.

Just as she was about to close her eyes, a flash of white on top of building fleeted through her peripheral vision. She impulsively looked to see what it was. She scanned the tops of all the buildings around her but it was gone.

"Huh… must've been a bird…."

She didn't think about it any longer; sleep was invading the edges of her mind.

As she closed her drooping eyelids and began to drift away, a white feather drifted down from seemingly nowhere in particular and settled itself at her feet.

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_Was that really just a bird???? Or dare I say… Altaïr?? What will be in store for our poor little heroin?(sorry if it's too depressing, that's just how I roll.) More chapters to come! (Unless of course you don't review it! Reviews inspire me to write!)_

**أمان وسلام**


	2. Chapter 2

_Hey! Thanks for the reviews! It seems that I was inspired.... Anyway, this chapter is when it truly begins. Enjoy...._

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Adrianna was jolted out of her peaceful sleep by a loud obnoxious clanging. She groaned and detested the loud city bells for rousing her at an early hour. It would be impossible to fall asleep again. She rose to her feet from her hard bed on the street and stretched out her stiff back and legs. The sharp ringing of the city bells was beginning to give her a headache. Her mind was still sensitive and clouded with early morning weariness.

Why were the city's alarm bells ringing anyway? Everything seemed quiet enough. The Saracens couldn't have attacked; they really didn't need a bell for that.

She flit to the mouth of the alley and observed the masses.

Normal. No panicked or worried looks.

A couple of guards passed by, weaving their way through the crowd. They had their swords drawn at their sides and they were warily scanning the faces of the people surrounding them. It seemed like they were looking for something.

"Hmm… odd…." she said to herself.

Whatever caused the alarm bells to ring must have been pretty significant, so the guards probably wouldn't suspect a thirteen-year-old girl of anything. Adrianna slipped from the alley into the river of people and allowed the flow to carry her wherever it willed. As she wandered, she listened to the fragmented conversations of the people she passed. She picked up on phrases like, 'Hospitalier Grand Master assassinated', and 'murderer responsible escaped'.

She eventually pieced together that someone had been assassinated by a man that was dressed in white robes, his face concealed by the shadow cast by his hood.

She had overheard the outlandish stories of this man before. Few knew of his deeds and even fewer have ever caught a glimpse of him. Several have claimed to have seen him fly. Some have said that he cannot be killed, and some say that he can even vanish into thin air. Then there are those who say he is not even a man at all, and that the white cloaked figure is really a demon sent to kill and collect the souls of those who have committed horrible sins.

Whoever or whatever the figure was, had killed the Grand Master of the Hospitalier Knights, and no one had any idea where he was. He could probably just silently appear behind anyone at any moment, stab them in the heart, then disappear before they hit the ground. They would be dead before they even knew what had happened.

Adrianna bumped into someone and was jolted from her thoughts. She worriedly looked up as the person turned around. Luckily, it was just an old man.

"Oh, forgive me sir. I should have been paying more attention to where I was walking," she pleaded.

"Well, fine, but please watch where you're going young lady, my heart can't take many more surprises."

Adrianna smiled apologetically at the old man and moved past him. She scolded herself for not being more wary, especially with the white cloaked murderer lurking in the shadows that could kill anyone at any moment. A little girl like her would be easy prey…. No one would even know nor care if she was killed.

She tried to snap herself out of it, "Get a hold of your imagination Adrianna! You're only scaring yourself."

Sometimes she thought her mind was an unbridled horse that never tired.

She tried pushing these dark thoughts from her mind, but couldn't help but be nervous and walk a little faster every time she passed an empty, dark alley.

She had been walking aimlessly for a while now; the sun was nearly at its highest point. Her empty stomach was beginning to complain again.

The whole time when she was walking before, she didn't even see a single scrap of food. She hopefully glanced around the market square she had ended up in with a scavenging mindset, but not a crumb of a free meal was to be found.

Her stomach knotted and her heart fluttered at the thought of stealing something again. What if she was caught this time?

An angry growl came from her belly as if it answered her question for her.

She bit her lip in anxiety while she thought about it. She wasn't sure if she could be stealthy enough to slip some food.

_Risk being caught._

_Go hungry._

She walked towards a fruit stand and stopped a little ways away.

_Get chased by guards and possibly be killed._

_Go hungry…_

She longingly stared at a big, ripe plum that was about to fall off the vendor's table. She stole a quick glance up at the merchant; he seemed to be distracted by a crowd of customers. She wedged herself into his line and pretended to examine his product. A chance presented itself when the merchant and his buyer turned away. She leaned in to hide her hand and reached out for the shining plum.

Suddenly there was a scream then a thunderous crash from above. Adrianna leaped out of the way just as the roof of the fruit stand collapsed.

When the dust settled, she and several bystanders gasped at the sight of several dead bodies. The merchant and the first customer had been crushed under the roof. The other was the body of a Hospitalier archer that rested on top of the pile of carnage.

Several people screamed shock and ran away while some other onlookers were just staring in disbelief and pity. Adrianna was still in shock herself; she had just witnessed someone die a tragic death, and was almost a casualty herself. Some guards that were nearby came to inspect the scene.

The archers that patrolled the city's rooftops were up high all the time and were fairly agile; they almost never fell off rooftops that easily…

She warily gazed up at where the archer had fallen to his death. Her eyes grew as wide as saucers at what she saw then. A menacing, hooded figure in flowing white robes silhouetted against the afternoon sun was looking down on the street over the edge of the building. With a billow of white fabric, he whipped back around and disappeared.

Her body and mind refused to work, as she was left staring up at the now empty roof. No one else had even bothered to look up at where the archer had fallen from.

_Was that?..._

Her thought was cut short when a shout came from around the block.

"ASSASSI-" it was suddenly cut off by a small shriek.

Every fiber of her being told her to walk in the other direction, but she remained standing, looking in the direction the cry came from. She nervously began to fidget with her fingers and clothes. Her feet remained indecisive.

_Someone might need help…_

She hesitated for moment, and then started to walk in the direction the shout had come from, down into an empty, isolated alley. Slowly advancing forward, she kept her eyes transfixed on the edge of the wall, afraid of what she suspected she would find around it. As she approached the corner, she moved against the brick wall and stopped right before she got to the edge.

A quiet gurgle came from around the corner.

She fearfully faltered at the noise and listened for a moment. No more sound. Taking in a deep breath, she peeked around the corner.

It was him; the one in the flowing white robes. His back was turned to her and he was kneeling in the middle of the alley. At the sight of him, she instantly felt the need to get away. His very presence ebbed lethal precision. Every time his back slowly rose and fell with each breath, every time his heart listlessly throbbed in his chest, every breath of wind that caressed his hood was anticipated, then compensated for so as not to disturb the flawlessness in his movements. Even the way he had positioned himself on the ground was deliberate, like he was taking into consideration how his weight was distributed so that he would rise perfectly balanced. This man was no murderer; He was a _predator_.

Adrianna writhed internally from the disturbing impression while she continued to watch him in his stoical, sullen position. She would have thought him a statue if it weren't for the subtle breeze that stirred his robes.

Then, he began to rise to his feet, putting into action all of his underlying preparations. His reason for kneeling suddenly revealed itself.

Lying pathetically at his feet was the lifeless body of a guard. His eyes were rolled into the back of his head. From the corner of his mouth and from a deep puncture in his throat oozed fresh, dark-red blood that formed a vast, sickening puddle in the street.

She silently gagged, and clamped a hand over her mouth in horror. Moisture began to collect at the edges of her eyes and her throat closed up. She looked on in anguish. Then she saw something metallic shine in his left had; a long, thin, gore-coated blade. It unexpectedly slipped up into his sleeve and disappeared with a '_shink'_.

She stared, dumfounded and in shock. He was calm, unmoving for a few seconds, as if tasting the air for a hint of what was to come, and then he slowly turned his body and looked straight to her direction. She yanked her head back behind the wall as soon as she saw it coming, and hopefully before he saw her. He probably already knew she was there anyway.

She tried to meld into the side of the building, half-expecting him to come around the corner and silently put her out of her misery like he did that guard; the terrible image was still burning in her mind. Then she came to a horrible realization; she was a _witness._ There was no way he would allow her to live, and of course, he knew she was there by the way he almost met her gaze. Running was futile; there was no escaping from a predator once you were in its sights.

She was going to die. She had realized it and already accepted her fate in a matter of moments. How could she be so weak as to just lie down without a fight and die like a young lamb to the slaughter? Maybe this is why she deserved to die; because this cruel world weeds out the weak.

Barely breathing, she closed her eyes and waited for the sound of his boots to walk toward her. She waited to feel the pressure of the slick, cold blade slide into her neck and end her truly pathetic life. She waited, tense and in darkness for what felt like forever, but nothing came. No sound, no cold metal, and no embrace of death. She dared to open her eyes, and saw nothing but the brick alley. Hesitantly, she peeked around the corner; no one except for the dead body. She hadn't heard a thing. He had simply vanished, like they said he could, like a ghost.

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_Oh boy Adrianna, what are you getting yourself into........  
Still like it so far? Do I have you on the edge of your seat? Are you repulsing every word that I post up here? Go spit up your thoughts in a review until you're a brain-dead vegetable!!_

**أمان وسلام**


	3. Chapter 3

_Hello again! Thank you everyone for the wonderful reviews! Feel free to contact/message me as I enjoy talking or disscussing about whatever!  
So sorry it took so long for me to upload again, I had "the writer's block" on which direction I was going to take the story, and I was traveling. But in return you get a super long chapter! It's twice as long as the other two! Hurray for you! So here is the exciting, extended third chapter!_

_Be warned: This chapter has explicit violence.  
Hope you enjoy it. heh heh..._

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She couldn't seem to get her mind to process anything, and then it hit her like a fully loaded cart of bricks. She collapsed to her knees, shaking with distress, and nearly hyperventilating.

_I am alive._

Somehow in her hysteria, she realized that she had to get out of here, anywhere but here, away from _him_. Her legs felt like jelly, but she forced herself to get up.

Then she ran. She ran as far as her scrawny little legs would carry her. She had been so close to death…

When she could go no further and her lungs felt like they were about to burst, she made a b-line for the nearest bench and exhaustingly plopped down in the last open spot.

She closed her eyes, leaned back against the wall behind her, and tried to steady her breathing. Eventually, she calmed herself down and looked around at where she had ended up at.

The buildings and people looked nicer here…it must be the middle district.

She looked to her right and almost fell off the bench in horror. She nearly gasped out loud, but silenced herself by cupping her hands to her mouth.

Sitting as motionless as a statue directly next to her was the ghostly predator dressed in white robes with the shadow of his hood obscuring most of his face. She tore her hands away from her face and placed them in her lap. He hadn't noticed, or maybe decided not to acknowledge, her erratic movements and was looking in the opposite direction. He was simply sitting on a bench in public like he didn't even exist to the world, not looking at anything in particular except for the ground.

Did he not recognize her? He must have not actually seen her appearance in the alley. She was just another anonymous person to him as long as she acted as such and not a scared little girl who just ran from the scene of a murder.

Though all she wanted to do run, she was afraid to get up and leave right away; he would notice her for leaving for no apparent reason and realize she had recognized him, and that would shorten her lifespan.

So, she attempted to sit as calmly and normally as was possible while sitting next to a fickle, cold-blooded killer, and strived to keep from staring, but she just couldn't help it. It was like trying to ignore a pink elephant that was balancing on a little ball three feet in front of your face.

She thought back to after… what he did, and how he soundlessly left as if he really vanished…. She was beginning to believe that he really was some kind of ghost or demon; his clothes looked real enough though. She was tempted to reach out and see if her hand passed right through him. She thought better of it, but she still couldn't stop staring. Her eyes particularly concentrated on all of the imposing weapons he could have killed her with that were strapped to his person.

On his side closest to her hung an impressive sword that was put away in its scabbard, but that did not deter the feeling of dread she received from gazing at its concealed blade, immediately wondering how many had fallen to its icy bite. She resisted the urge to scoot away from it. On his back was another tightly fitting leather scabbard that held a shorter, more decorative blade that was tilted at just the right angle to quickly extract for use at any time. Its handle was engraved with a flying eagle; she instantly realized he too associated himself with predators, more specifically birds of prey. She could see how the bird represented him perfectly.

Fastened to his right shoulder was a piece of leather spouting at least five throwing knife hilts that had eagles engraved into them as well. There were even more throwing knives sticking out of his wide, leather belt. Underneath the belt was a blood-red sash that was the only item of clothing that wasn't white or leather. He had gauntlets strapped to both of his arms, the left one having metal guards on the top.

She was suddenly taken aback when her gaze settled on his left gloved hand. The ring finger was missing and all that was left was an unseemly stump. It wasn't that she was appalled with the missing appendage; it just took her off guard. Though, she wasn't exactly sure why it unnerved her so much…. The practiced, meticulous touch of an experienced killer's hands perhaps?

She nearly jumped when he moved his head to look at something.

Adrianna tried to internally laugh at herself for reacting in such a way. Was she really that nervous? Looking down at her hands that were subtly trembling, she realized that she was. A verifying, cold shudder shook her body, even though the air was fairly warm.

From the corner of her eye, she tried to follow where his gaze was directed at. She scanned every building, all of the people, but nothing seemed of interest. Then, from at least a hundred feet away, a group of alert, Teutonic guards with drawn swords turned a corner and began to march down the street. The leader was bulky and wore an intimidating helm on his head. Did he know they were coming before he could even see them? What else was this man capable of?

As the group of guards approached their bench, she absentmindedly glanced over their faces, but, had to look again. Those men seemed somehow familiar, but couldn't quite remember where she had seen them before…

Her stomach started to boil and churn when she realized it. They were the ones who had caught her stealing an apple. _It can't be… the same exact ones?_ They would surely recognize her; but what about the docile murderer leisurely seated next to her? Again, suspicion would arise from both parties… this was certainly a great predicament.

She stole a quick glance at the white cloaked man with a collection of blades strapped to his body that no one seemed to notice. How did he keep so inconspicuous?

She was suddenly reminded of scholars and priests by the way he was dressed. They wore white, sometimes had red symbols, and were quite solemn and kept to themselves most of the time; much like how he was acting right now.

So that was his ploy; assume the role of a peaceful intellectual so the guards wouldn't spare a second glance. Scholars sometimes needed to travel along dangerous roads sometimes, and that could possibly be used to explain his extensive weapons cache. But what could she do?

The guards were approaching swiftly; there were less than twenty feet separating them. She glanced at the killer and noticed he had lowered his head and was looking directly at the ground; the shadow now concealed his entire face.

She decided to try and mimic him. Even with the absence of a hood, she might be able to pull it off.

The sound of the guard's chinking chain mail and heavy boots were nearly in front of them. She heard one of them mumble, "I'll find you, I swear I will," as he walked by. They must be looking for _him_. How pathetic, he was right under their noses.

When they had passed by and all of their backs were turned, she looked up to see if they appeared suspicious of her. They continued on marching straight ahead.

She grinned widely when she realized she had fooled them so easily. She looked away, and then noticed there was no one sitting next to her. Wondering how in the world he slipped away so silently, she scanned the crowd for a white hood, but could find nothing. He just vanished, this time when he was less than a foot away from her.

…_Demon_... _there is no other way to explain it_...

She was instantly fearful for her life again. He could easily be anywhere, unlike when he was seated calmly on the bench where she could at least see him.

"Hey!"

She was startled at the booming voice, and whipped around to meet the eyes of an angry guard.

"You're that little urchin thief!" he screamed, pointing his grimy finger directly at her. He and the rest of his partners started sprinting toward her.

_How did they notice me?!_ she thought to herself, leaping up and bolting off through the crowd.

"STOP HER!! MOVE YOU FOOLS!!"

She was scared out of her wits, running faster and farther than she ever had before. There were at least seven of them, following so close she could hear their labored, gasping breaths. She heard a small, desperate squeak escape her. She was searching everywhere around her as she ran for her life for a possible hiding spot, but could find none. Then, she came upon an empty alley and veered into it. Some of the guards behind her had a hard time making the tight turn; they slipped, but caught themselves before they hit the ground.

When she turned a corner, she gazed up in horror and disbelief at a dead end. She continued on to the end and turned around. The guards slid to a stop and looked at her in amusement. They chuckled wickedly as they began to slowly stroll toward her. The leader's deep, booming laugh echoed in his helm, making him sound ten times more frightening. She hopelessly began to back away.

"Now you've got nowhere to escape to," one of the orderlies shouted to her.

The thick-set leader chuckled again in his roaring, metallic voice and slowly started to pull out his sword. It screeched painfully as it scraped against its metal sheath. He shouted something menacing in a language she didn't understand and approached her with his sword.

She shook her head as her heels hit the wall behind her. "No."

He reached out and tried to grab her wrist, but she pulled her arm away. Annoyed, he grabbed her hair and dragged her out of the corner she had backed into. He tossed her to his men who caught her in mid-fall. She fought and screamed as they wrestled with her, tearing her clothes. Fists came out of nowhere and fiercely punched her in the head, leaving her in a foggy daze. Eventually they stopped beating her and she was thrown to the ground, sore and trembling. Her busted lip and brow streamed blood down her face and dripped to the ground. She grasped the side of her aching head and felt something wet. Bringing her hand around to look, she saw it was soaked and dripping with sticky red blood as well.

She felt warm, wet tears stain her face and she curled up into a ball.

"Aww, the urchin's cry'in like a little baby," she heard someone say, after which they all broke into a cackling fit. But they weren't finished with her yet.

She felt a strong, leather-encased hand grab her wrist and yank her up to her knees. She looked up to the leader booming something at her from inside his metal helm. He brought her up just enough to lift her off her knees and raised his shining sword high in the air.

Her eyes grew wide with horror as she realized what was about to happen next. She tried to weigh down on his arm and wrench away from his tight, powerful grasp. Kicking and punching at his gut, she screamed, "NO!" as he brought his sword back to hack off her hand, laughing the whole time. She squeezed her eyes shut and tensed her muscles, anticipating great agony.

The guard's hooting and laughing suddenly ceased. She opened her eyes as she was released, and dropped to the ground. A sharp ringing came from the sword he dropped as well as it violently bounced and vibrated on the stone street. The other men looked on in horror.

The hilt of a throwing knife was sprouting out of the leader's neck, just below his helm. He choked and brought his hands up to his throat as his mouth and neck began pouring blood. He gagged and sputtered in attempts to call out; a red mist sprayed through his helmet as he swayed then stumbled to the ground, landing with a hard thud.

There was a streak of white from a rooftop and a guard was tackled to the ground. The fallen man's comrades jumped back in surprise, nearly shrieking. The white cloaked man stood up from the person he just instantly killed, pulling a long, thin blade out of his neck. It made a sickening sound of metal ripping away coagulated, ample flesh.

The other nervous guards faltered for a few moments, then wrenched their swords out, shouting shaky insults. The man in white stood perfectly still for a few more seconds, feeling the points of their swords directed at him through the air.

Then, as gracefully as an eagle in flight, he twisted towards a guard, pulled out his sword, extended an arm, and jabbed it deep into his gut. The guard screamed in agony as he felt the crunch of bones and rupturing of organs deep in his abdomen. He screamed once more at the burn of the white cloaked man thrusting his sword deeper, pressing him up against a wall then yanking it out in a spray of blood and gore. The guard gave a pained moan before sliding to the ground, soaking in his own blood.

An anxious, hasty guard brought his blade back and ran at the man in white. The guard was stopped short when the killer swiftly slashed his throat with a short blade he grabbed off his back. The surprised guard dropped his sword and grabbed his neck as a massive amount of blood spewed everywhere out of the deep gash. The man in white then viciously thrust up into the soft tissue under his jaw and far enough into his skull until nothing but the hilt of the twelve inch blade was visible. The guard's eyes glazed over and rolled back into his head: dead in an instant. The nimble, white cloaked man twisted his blade to release it, producing a nauseating, muffled crack, and then jerked it out of the guard's skull. The limp body crumpled to the earth.

All the while, the terrified leader was still alive lying on his back, writhing and thrashing, his hands pressed to his throat in a death grip. Warm, viscous blood spewed from his mouth as he choked and sputtered. He was beginning to drown in his own blood; it entered his lungs every time he tried to gasp for air. He would eventually fall silent and be still forever.

Another guard leapt at the man in white and brought his sword down with all his might but only hit open air. A split second of confusion crossed his face then was mangled in horror and pain as the short sword punctured through the back of his neck. Another shower of thick, gory blood rained on the street and the other two surviving guards.

Beneath the glaze of blood on their faces, the remaining two shot alarmed glances at each other. They were beginning to inch back to the entrance of the alley.

Without warning, the white cloaked man knocked away the sword of the nearest guard and knocked him to the ground with a powerful blow to the face from back of his gauntlet. He twisted around, drew his sword again, and plunged it into the guard's stomach and ripped it out. The mortally wounded guard screamed in agony and terror at the sight of his own blood and bile spewing everywhere. He desperately clamped his hands down on the puncture and attempted to stifle the flow.

The man in white calmly rose to his feet, no hint of any valid human expression on what was visible of his face, and turned his body to face the last man, quivering only a few strides away.

The surviving guard gave one look at his slaughtered comrades, one of them still alive and screaming for salvation, then at their butcher with the gore-glazed blade dripping with their blood onto the reddened street. With a distressed, panicked whimper he dropped his sword and held his hands up to the executioner, pleading as he backed away, "No, please! Have mercy!"

The man in white cocked his head slightly upwards, as if interested, or in amusement, or either to see him more clearly from under his low-drawn hood; it was hard to try and read the expressions of someone so unreadable.

The terrified man, with hands still raised as if that could provide him with some sort of protection, tested his boundaries a little more and inched away a little further. The man in white stood motionless, as if daring him to try and run. He watched every single tense of the guard's muscles, every direction he shifted his weight in, just waiting for a reason to go after him.

Glancing for one more second at the massacre that had painted the alley, the guard inched away farther still, attempting to reinforce his previous plead by saying, "Please, let me go. I don't want to die." He was almost ready to get on his knees and beg.

The guard stopped in his tracks, not even daring to breathe as he tried to read the man's face, predicting his possible reactions.

He suddenly bolted; everything after that seemed to go in slow motion. Not a moment later, the man in white was in mid-air, his left arm swung back, and hurdling toward the guard trying to run for his life. An almost undetectable glint of metal shined from his hand and reflected off of the spilled puddles of blood. Without of sound, he landed on top of the guard, bringing in his outstretched arm and following his victim to the ground. The entire moment this took place in was impossibly silent.

They remained on the ground for a few more seconds, the man in white whispering something inaudible in his ear as the guard's body involuntarily twitched once, and then fell still.

He rose slowly to his feet and turned his attention to a guard he hadn't killed right away and was screaming at the top of his lungs in pain for someone to help him. Someone would surely hear his cries and come to inspect; most likely additional guards. The man in white silently strode to his side and gazed down at him. He watched the deteriorating man bleeding to death as if he was simply observing a spider constructing a web. The guard's eyes were tightly squeezed shut, striving to endure the pain and not pass out; he had no idea of what was about to happen to him next.

The executioner dressed in white dropped to one knee and leaned over him. He slowly brought around his left hand and directed his open palm at his neck; his movements were so smooth and calm that if it weren't for the bloodshed, you would think he was performing a religious ceremony.

The thin blade sprang out of his sleeve and plunged deep into his throat, instantly silencing his screams with a startled gasp. The surprised guard's eyes were wide open now. He gazed up into his executioner's face, seeing through the mysterious shadow before choking up blood and closing his eyes for the final slumber.

Adrianna watched it all, the horrible violence barely registering in her mind. She numbly gazed at the ruined bodies that saturated the ground with their blood, then up at the man in white who had viciously killed them all without even flinching. He was standing up straight once more, staring at her from under the shadow of his hood.

"Are you going to kill me now?" she asked plainly.

He slowly shook his head. The rest of his body was motionless.

"Why? You killed them without a second thought." She waited for an answer, but he didn't respond at all. They watched each other for some time then he turned away and began to leave.

"Wait," she called out. He paused and waited with his back still turned. "…Are you a demon?" she asked without hesitating at the discomforting question.

The man in white lingered on the words for a while. Then, she saw him break his perfectly unmoving stature when he took in a deep breath. He turned his head slightly to the right, just enough so that she could hear his low voice clearly:

"Some know me as a demon. I am merely human; I am an Assassin."

His voice betrayed much of what he had made himself out to be. It sounded warm and soothing like honey, but there was also a great deal of somber melancholy behind it. It was not cold or threatening like a murderer's voice should be like, though she did not doubt he had the ability to make himself sound like that.

With that, he silently strode away, turned the corner and left.

She sat there in a numb, dazed state for a long time; the ground seemed very interesting for some reason. Her mind being empty, she was unsure of a sudden, strange sensation creeping up inside her nose. At first it was merely tickling, irritating, but then it augmented until it was searing the inside of her nostrils and throat. It strongly stank of something metallic and the ghastly stench of death. She was shaken from her numb haze and looked up once more at the alley filled with dead men drained of their blood; some with their entrails turned to soup and splayed out on the street that was now a red sea of blood and other remains.

The sight and smell was so overpowering she planted her palms on the ground and lurched dry heaves, sucking in frantic gasps in-between.

There was nothing in her stomach to expel.

When her bodily fits finally subsided, she went to the nearest corner and curled up into a protective ball, dulling most of her senses. The stress that had accumulated heavily on her mind finally washed over her in a hot wave of emotions.

She broke out into tears and cried vigorously for a long time, more than when she had wept for the loss of her family.

* * *

_Poor Adrianna... can't have a moment's peace. Not the most pleasant first exchange of words..._

_Remember to review! It is greatly appreciated.  
And tell your friends about this story! Spread the word!_

_Oh, and P.S., mostly the Dreamcloud93: If any of that sounded similar to the 2nd chap of Red Hawk, White Eagle; I wrote this part a while before that was even posted. It must have been a coincidence... or hostile robot overlords from the future._

**أمان وسلام**


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